I flip through magazines
With the same hands that carved pathways in your hair
Ambitious explorers negotiating new terrain
Fingers twitch expectantly
Another glossy page
Another foggy, muted waiting room
Empty chairs awaken memories
Of a honeymoon phase
Seventy-fifth birthday
And my eyes navigate faces like a maze
Every stiff, obligatory smile
And sympathetic gaze
Raises suspicion of my pathetic, arthritic movements
Candle flames cry and whimper
Mocking every feeling I must prevent
On such a selfless, lemonade occasion
I remember various beds and porches
Muggy mornings invading our honeycomb of sheets and mosquito nets
I inhaled your humidity as you slept
Kept the demons from your neck
Fascinated by false awakenings
A nervous, syncopated dialogue between respiratory systems
Hearts: a fevered piston
A controlled, faraway explosion
Respectively
Quantify my self-esteem
Dreams blended into milkshakes that we sip in silence
Empty and close
Seated and dancing imperceptibly
To the hum of my inkjet
Nothing need be seen
Cut scene, retiring
Frozen and undressed
Passion unchecked
Giving a pause, aching to be different
Just like the rest
Our ten million twins
Simply trying their best.
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